


Lance Tucker, Bloodsucker

by meleedamage



Category: The Bronze (2015)
Genre: Bed Sex, Biting, Blood Drinking, Blow Jobs, Consensual Mind Control, F/M, Reader-Insert, Rough Oral Sex, Shameless Smut, Vampire!Lance Tucker, Wall Sex, ceiling sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-17 02:25:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11842011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meleedamage/pseuds/meleedamage
Summary: Lance Tucker is the dirtbag ex you haven't managed to get over yet. When he turns up trying to hit it on the rebound and claims that he's changed, how can you possibly resist inviting him in?





	Lance Tucker, Bloodsucker

**Author's Note:**

> This is my submission for the If You Go Down to the Woods Today Writing Challenge. Hope you like it! xo

You flop down against the sofa with an exhausted sigh amid the cardboard boxes containing the shattered remains of your life and wonder where the fuck it all went wrong. Another failed relationship with another no good, lousy cheater and you're right back where you started, trying to work up the strength to start unpacking and start over. 

Like tic-tac-toe, this made three in a row. Your newly ex-fiance, Dr. Feel-good, had been caught making unscheduled house calls and administering hot beef injections to half the ladies in your yoga class. Prior to that, your ex the RMT was busted applying his own brand of deep-dick therapy to his clients for a nominal fee. 

At least they'd had the good sense to use protection. You just counted yourself lucky that you hadn't caught anything from Lance when he'd been running around on you. 

_Lance fucking Tucker._

No one had really been that surprised when the starry-eyed naif he'd been coaching had wound up pregnant but it'd still managed to break your heart. 

He was a monumental asshole and a colossal fuck up but he looked so goddamned good doing it that you couldn't help rooting for him a little. Leaving him had been the hardest thing you'd ever had to do. 

Deep down, you knew that you'd never love another man the way you loved his conceited, perfectly toned ass and there was no doubt that he knew it too. 

The doorbell rings and you slowly rise to your feet, wondering who could possibly be calling. The move had taken the better part of the day and you hadn't exactly gotten around to advertising that you were back in town. You check the peephole and unlock the door with a sigh. 

Lance stands on the porch, wetting his lips as his eyes run up and down the length of your body. It's ridiculously unfair. He hasn't aged a single goddamned day since the last time you saw him. Maybe he's a little paler... And that's definitely a different cologne... Whatever he's got going on, it's totally working because you're totally staring.

"I missed you too," he smirks, meeting your gaze. 

"What do you want?" you sigh, folding your aching arms across your chest.

"I thought I recognized that shitbox parked out front-"

"And if you came knocking, you might get it in?" you interrupt, rolling your eyes. "Still so predictable..."

"Are you gonna invite me in or not?" he asks, arching a brow. 

You stand looking at him for a moment, weighing your options. For some reason the decision feels important, like it warrants careful consideration.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he asks, growing impatient.

"It's been a long day and I'm exhausted," you respond weakly.

"You know, I've got just the thing for that," he says, leaning against the door frame so close that you can almost taste him.

"Is it an apology?" you ask, tilting your head.

"Oh, come on! We're way past that, aren't we?" he purrs, eyeing you hungrily. "I'm a new man, sweetheart. Better. Stronger. How long's it been since someone got you off the way you deserve? Fuck, I'm getting hard just thinking about it."

He made an excellent point. It'd been weeks since you'd had any action at all and compared to what you knew he was capable of, it hardly even counted. You took in a breath and your remaining resolve quickly crumbled. He smelled so fucking good that you could hardly stand it. 

"Please don't make me regret this," you say, stepping aside and waving him in. 

"You won't," he replies, strutting through the door like he owns the place.

You lock the door behind him and by the time you turn around, he's vanished into thin air. The floorboards creak beneath your feet as you move from room to room, listening for any sign of him. The only trace he leaves behind is a few unpacked boxes and the rest neatly stacked against the wall. Somehow, he manages to remain one step ahead of you.

Your breath catches as you discover your bed fitted with fresh sheets and lit by a score of flickering candles.

"Too much?" he asks, suddenly behind you.

"No. It's perfect," you reply as his strong hands eagerly map out your curves, "but how did you-"

The cold press of his mouth against your skin makes you shiver and in a flash you're pinned against the sheets beneath him. His perfectly moisturized lips curl into a wicked grin, revealing a dazzling set of pearly white fangs.

"Oh, my God!!" you gasp, gazing up at him in a panic. "Lance, you're a... a...."

"Amazing?" he smirks as the candlelight flickers across his perfect face.

"No. I mean, yes," you stammer, squirming beneath him uselessly, "but those can't possibly be real."

"Don't worry," he soothes, stroking your cheek tenderly. "I won't use them until you ask me to, sweetheart." 

"So, you're a vampire now?" you ask, looking up at him in bewilderment.

"I found a grey hair," he shrugs, clearly still a little bitter. "It was all going to be downhill from that point. Perfection deserves to be preserved."

"And then you tracked down a vampire and convinced them to turn you?" you ask with a frown.

"Yeah. That's basically it," he chuckles. "They have an eye for talent and they recognized a good candidate when they saw one."

"So, it's a good fit?" you ask, watching him carefully.

"It's the best thing that's ever happened to me," he replies, gazing down at you. "Wait, no... Second best."

"Next to your gold?" you ask with a smile.

"No," he says as his eyes linger over your lips. "Next to you." It's quiet for a minute as his words hang in the air. "When I died, there was a moment when I was sure it was curtains. My only regret was that I'd never see you again."

"But what about Maggie and your baby?" you ask, drawing his attention away from your mouth.

"Paternity test came back negative," he says, huffing out a laugh. "Serves me right, I guess..."

"I'm sorry," you murmur, wondering how you hadn't heard something sooner. Considering how much every single person you knew despised him, it was hardly surprising that it'd been kept from you.

"Nearly broke my heart when I found out," he quietly confesses. "Then I heard that you were engaged and it finished the job. I guess I never really expected you'd move on."

"I didn't," you reply, regretting the words the moment they slip from your lips.

"I knew it," he crows triumphantly. "I fucking knew it."

You turn away as he leans in for a kiss and he playfully nips at the edge of your jaw. As much as part of you is dying to dive right in, you still have questions that you need answered first. 

"You're so fucking beautiful," he sighs, nuzzling the side of your neck. "I could eat you alive."

"What's stopping you?" you ask, running your fingers through his hair. "Did you overdo it at lunch?"

"They send over a live donor in the evening," he responds, drawing back and looking you in the eye. "I work with the new recruits, helping them through the initial adjustment period. It's all about discipline. They follow my system, establish a routine, practice good habits and it's better for everyone."

He speaks with such confidence and enthusiasm that it makes your heart soar. Coaching has always been his real passion and with innocent lives hanging in the balance, it sounds like his work has never been more important. Still, you can't help feeling like there must be an awfully deep, dark side to the arrangement that he isn't telling you about.

"What about the recruits who don't get with the program?" you ask cautiously.

"They flame out... with a stake through the heart," he sighs. "Senior management has zero tolerance for bullshit. Most people just aren't cut out for this. Best to weed them out fast."

"Bet you're really good at that," you say, flushing with arousal at the thought of him putting his douchebaggery to good use.

"I'm not just good," he replies, smiling proudly. "I'm the best."

"I remember," you concede dreamily. "It's the reason I let you in."

"Well, I've got great news," he drawls, rolling his hips against you. "There have been significant improvements."

Something in his voice makes the heat pooling between your legs pulse slicker and you arch up against him as your mind floods with a torrent of bad ideas. 

"You like that?" he asks, using his voice to make you even wetter. "I've got a whole new playbook full of moves you've never seen before."

He rolls back onto his knees and slowly unzips his track jacket, taking his time to tease you. Your eyes follow as he tosses it aside and slips his t-shirt off over his head, revealing the familiar lines of his sculpted body and the ribbon at the top of his tattoo. 

"Take it off," he quietly instructs.

Your body complies without the slightest hesitation and you rush with excitement at the power that he has over you as you reach for the hem at the bottom of your shirt.

"Slower," he says, palming the bulge in the front of his pants and biting into his lower lip. 

You try to go faster but your body won't respond and panic quickly sets in. Lance watches you squirm, touching himself as you slowly pull your shirt upwards, exposing yourself an inch at a time.

"I should probably stop doing this," he muses with a sigh, watching as you slowly roll your shirt off over your head. "It's unsportsmanlike."

You're suddenly held in place as he orders you to freeze. Your eyes meet his as you lay trapped with your arms pinned above your head inside your shirt and he winks just to taunt you.

"If you're getting off on this and you want more, open your mouth," he directs as he slides off his pants. 

Your lips spread open immediately, gaping so wide that it's fucking embarrassing. He slides you down the mattress, setting his knees at either side of your body and directs the glistening end of his cock towards your tongue. You know exactly what's coming next and you can hardly fucking wait.

He thrusts into your mouth, groaning deliciously as your lips close around him and you begin to eagerly suck, thrilling in the cool rock-solid press of his flesh against your tongue. 

"Even filthier than I remember," he says, driving himself deeper with each stroke until your eyes begin to burn and brim with tears. "Come on and take it for me." 

He does that thing with his voice that flips every one of your switches and you relax into him as he begins to fuck your face at an inhuman pace. Somehow, you manage to keep up, taking it just like you were told and you get lost in the taste and the smell of him as the room fills with the obscene wet sound of him, claiming your mouth.

He yanks your shirt off the rest of the way and grabs the back of your head, continuing to fuck your face as he guides you down to the floor. You gaze past the ridges of his sculpted torso into his cool blue eyes as he presses you up against the wall.

"Go on and touch yourself," he says with a nod. "Tell me when you're getting close."

Your fingers slip between your slick folds as he continues to thrust into your mouth and he lets out a rich rumble as you firmly rub your clit. 

"Faster," he grinds out as he rolls his hips against you. 

You moan around his cock as your fingertips move quicker and he gasps out an urgent cry of your name that nearly finishes you off on the spot.

"I'm so close," he confides, his voice straining. "Keep moaning for me. It feels so fucking good."

It's so ridiculously hot that you let out a legitimate moan that lifts his feet clear off the ground. You scramble up off your knees as he fucks your face up the length of the wall in a desperate search for release. He moves higher and higher until you're stretching onto your tiptoes, fighting to hang on as you continue to touch yourself, moaning shamelessly.

He comes suddenly, gasping your name and you choke down his spurting release, relieved to discover that at least some things have stayed the same. You sink back down to your knees as he slowly returns to the ground, gazing at you with a dreamy look in his eye.

"Still touching yourself?" he asks with a sinful smile. You nod eagerly, taking in a breath to tell him how close you are but before you can speak, he says, "Stop."

"Really?!" you snap, reluctantly removing your hand from between your legs. 

"Get on the bed and take off the rest of your clothes," he replies, offering his hand to help you up. You slap it away with a growl and stand up on your own.

"Come on, sweetheart. This is just part of the fun," he chuckles. 

"Easy for you to say," you grouse, sliding off your shorts. "You got to finish. By the way, you're welcome."

"Thanks," he says flopping down beside you and passing you a cold bottle of water that he'd somehow retrieved from the kitchen fridge downstairs.

"That's incredible. I never even noticed you were gone," you marvel, unscrewing the cap and drinking deeply. "That whole floating thing you did was pretty unbelievable too."

"Yeah, flying is definitely cool," he responds, rolling towards you and kissing your lips, "but I'm a big fan of the stamina. I don't really have a refractory period anymore."

He grinds up against you to illustrate his point and you softly moan his name. The sound drives him wild and he's all over you in a flash, kissing and touching you like he's everywhere at once. His cock brushes over the outside of your slick lips and your hips buck up towards him seeking friction. He does it again, increasing the pressure and watching your face.

"Much more of this and I'm going to finish," he says rasping his teeth over your collarbone. "I'd almost forgotten how good it feels being this close to you."

"I like it better when you're even closer," you breathe, running your fingertips over his abs. 

His tongue catches a bead of sweat as it rolls down your neck and you wonder why he lit so many goddamned candles.

"You're so warm," he whispers in your ear. "So alive." His body blankets yours in cool relief, eagerly soaking up your excess heat. "You smell fucking delicious."

"You better not be thinking about biting me," you chide playfully.

"Of course I am," he purrs, spreading your legs apart and lining himself up against you. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about it."

It's terrifying and exciting and so fucking hot. The head of his cock presses into your slickness, making you half-crazy and desperate for the feeling of him inside of you. 

"I keep imagining the sound you'd make when my teeth broke the skin," he confesses, sheathing himself in your tight heat. 

"The rusty, hot rush of you filling my mouth," he growls against your lips, thrusting into you with solid strokes. 

"The tension draining from your muscles until you surrendered completely," he murmurs, kissing you slowly as he drives himself deeper.

Your fingers settle over the top edge of his broad shoulders and you hang on for dear life as he overwhelms you completely. Each thrust knocks you senseless, filling your body with hot pulsing pleasure and your vision with stars as he swallows down your moans insatiably. He's stronger and faster than any man ought to be and the mattress creaks beneath you begging for mercy. 

"Break my bed and I'll break your face," you threaten through clenched teeth.

"I don't think my face is breakable anymore but I like your enthusiasm," he replies, rolling you over with a chuckle. 

You land on top of him and his capable hands find your hips, guiding your movements as he floats up off the mattress and hovers in the air. He thrusts up into you, driving out sharp cries of his name as you ride him and he watches you writhe above him like you can't get enough. 

"Keep it going," he coaxes with a firm slap on the ass. "You're doing fucking great, sweetheart."

Your muscles clench in response to the sharp sting of his hand against your skin and it's so intense that you can hardly breathe. Your body continues to move, spurred on by the sound of his voice as he offers words of encouragement using an inflection that makes you feel like he's kissing you from the inside. Your head rolls back and you call out for more as he drives you higher and the hot throbbing filling every inch of you cries out for release.

The muscles in his stomach strain beneath your palms as he pulls down on your hips with a possessive growl that makes you squirm. His hand settles against the small of your back, drawing you towards his chest as it drifts higher and he seeks out your lips hungrily as he continues to thrust into you. 

The adjusted angle has things meeting up just right as each stroke drives you higher and your eyes snap open as you feel the rough press of the textured ceiling against your back. You look past the top edge of Lance's shoulder, taking in the candlelit bed below you in stunned disbelief as he firmly fucks you into the ceiling. 

He kisses and thrusts into you at a pace so painfully deliberate that he's doubtlessly doing it just to screw with you. Each stroke makes the uneven surface behind you bite into your skin so deliciously that you want to cry.

"Please," you gasp, uncertain what you're even asking for as he makes passionate love to you. 

Your mind races with dangerous thoughts as your pulse echoes in your ears and you wonder what kind of sound you'd make as his fangs broke the surface of your skin and how it would feel to fill his mouth with your hot rush until you surrendered completely.

"Tell me what you want," he whispers to you, nuzzling the side of your neck as he continues to fuck you deep and slow.

"Don't stop," you blurt out desperately. "Please, I'm so close."

"Is that it?" he asks, with a playful lilt.

"Are you still thinking about biting me?" you reply, arching your head back and offering you neck to him enticingly. 

"Fuck yeah," he gasps unsteadily, making you ripple with goosebumps.

"I won't turn into a vampire or wake up dead, right?" you pant, dizzy with desire.

"I can guarantee that you won't wake up dead," he chuckles, drifting back down towards the mattress. "I like you alive. I'll be gentle, I promise. I've got you... whatever you decide... whenever you're ready..."

"Do it," you plead breathlessly as he rolls you over, pinning you to the mattress beneath him. "Use your fangs on me, champ."

Time seems to slow down as Lance orders you to come and his teeth sink into the side of your neck. You take in a breath to brace yourself but it isn't nearly enough as your climax crashes down on you and his fangs plunge through your skin, searing like wildfire. 

Bursting lights dance behind your eyelids as your muscles clutch his cock, flooding you with waves of pure euphoria and blistering pain. Your metallic taste hits his tongue and he instantly loses himself inside your smouldering heat, softly groaning as he drinks you in deeply. Your hand settles at the back of his neck, inviting him to take what he needs. 

Each erratic thrust makes you shudder and call out for him as he claims every inch of you in a moment so indescribably intimate that you could die. And, it occurs to you that you could actually die but it feels so fucking good that you don't care. 

It's beyond anything he could've imagined as you wring him out with even pulses and fill his mouth, warming him all the way down to the icy pit of his stomach. 

He beats back thoughts of draining you completely, struggling to regain control at the sound of you calling his name and forces himself to go slower. His tongue gently caresses your neck and you thrill at the rough scrape of his tastebuds against your skin as he focuses on savouring the moment.

Your eyes grow heavy as your body begins to weaken and you flood with a sudden primal urge to scream and fight and escape. You blink and the moment passes and you can't even muster the energy to regret it. Being close to him feels so right that you're exactly where you want to be. 

He feels your muscles relax and steels himself for what he knows is coming next. Nothing beats sticking the landing at the end of a routine and the stakes have never been higher. His brow furrows in rigorous concentration as he stiffly withdraws his fangs, running the tip of his tongue over the pointy end of his canine and using it to seal your wounds. 

A bolt of pain reaches you through the growing haze as he releases you. The darkness pulls you under and you let it carry you away as he softly whispers, "I love you."

You awaken to the sound of the doorbell, wincing in response to the glaring sunlight streaming in through the bare window. It's like a hangover but so much fucking worse.

"Coming!" you call out hoarsely as you struggle to stand up and pull on some clothes.

The person outside tries knocking instead as you stagger to the door and fumble with the lock, cursing under your breath.

"Aftercare calling!" the grinning brunette in the yellow sundress, standing on your front porch greets brightly.

You stare at her in a daze as she makes a notation on her clipboard. The man on her left hands you an elaborate bouquet of flowers while the man-bunned yogi on the opposite side passes you a horrible green smoothie.

"Ooh. We'd better get started," the woman says, taking in your bleary, roughshod appearance with a frown.

She turns you around and ushers you inside, calling out orders to the crew of people accompanying her. You're directed into a seat at your kitchen table amid a flurry of activity and you breathe in the scent of your flowers as a man identifying himself as a doctor takes your arm and hooks you up to an IV. 

"Let's get these in some water," the woman with the clipboard says, taking your flowers and passing you the tiny attached envelope.

You take a tentative sip of your smoothie as the limber man who gave it to you, sits down at your feet. He softly chuckles as you shudder at the bitter taste.

"Tell you what," he says, taking your foot between his hands and expertly massaging it, "you keep drinking that and I'll keep doing this." 

You force down another mouthful and open the card from your flowers. Your lips turn up into a dreamy smile at the sight of an address and telephone number in Lance's familiar script.

_Regrets? Didn't think so...  
Whatever you decide. Whenever you're ready. I'll be waiting..._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you liked it, I'd love to hear all about it. xo


End file.
